I'll Make Sure He Can't Let Me Go
I blink. I take a deep breath, trying my best not to let it show. Keep it together. Come on. I did it...! I had just survived a suffocating, high-pressure interview face-to-face with King Sejong himself! There was no way I hadn't left an impression. Excitement courses through my veins, heating my body. But I need to rein in this euphoria. This is exactly when mistakes happen. Taking another deep breath, I steady my mind and assess the situation.
Chief State Councillor Hwang Hui. Head of the Sungkyunkwan Heo Jo. Academician of the Hall of Worthies Jeong Inji. And countless other high-ranking officials. These are the giants of this era. Although the "Tiger" Kim Jong-seo is away in Hamgil Province, Yi Cheon—who developed the celestial globe—is in Pyeongan Province, and Jang Yeong-sil isn't here because he isn't a political heavyweight... the stories of the people gathered in this very room have inspired hundreds, if not thousands, of novels and historical dramas in the future.
"...How amusing."
"..."
"..."
"..."
Everyone else is utterly overwhelmed by this single man. The King gestures to me. "Come closer." So, I step closer. As I do, the emotions etched onto the King's face become even clearer. And here I thought Heo Jo was the crazy one. Is greatness always accompanied by madness? Is that why he just ran a high-stakes, trap-laden quiz show on a seven-year-old kid he's meeting for the first time, right in front of all his ministers? Who knows.
"You are truly brilliant."
Okay, I'm starting to get scared. Did I mention earlier how a physics student would feel meeting Isaac Newton? Come to think of it, Newton was a socially awkward recluse with a terrible temper. Meeting him in person would probably be a letdown. This is similar. No, actually, it's completely different. This isn't something I can just brush off with a simple, 'Huh, he's not as great in person.' The Yi Do I am seeing with my own eyes is entirely different from the benevolent, warm image of the King who loved his people so much he created an alphabet for them. He is far more of a... King. Or perhaps, he should be called a God.
A man who wields absolute authority and knows exactly how to use it. He occasionally does things so bold they shock everyone, but even those actions are backed by intricate calculations. In Joseon, a nation that worships scholarship, he is the most brilliant scholar. In Joseon, a nation that reveres sages, he is the closest thing to a living sage. He has acquired almost everything a man could possibly grasp. Yet, even so, he reaches out to grasp even more. That is King Sejong. That is the man named Yi Do standing before me.
He scans me from head to toe, measuring my talent and potential. It feels as though he is contemplating how to insert this new variable into his grand equation to maximize his own amusement. I mean, I've described it in rather grandiose terms, but to put it simply...
"Now I see why my trusted ministers, my very arms and legs like Kim Jong-seo and Heo Jo, were so utterly charmed by you."
"..."
I feel like a mouse cornered by a cat. Usually, plump people have a soft, gentle impression, don't they? Why am I seeing flashes of the "Human Butcher" Yi Seong-gye in this man? I bet Yi Seong-gye had that exact same expression when he decapitated the young Jurchen commander Agibaldo. Honestly, the House of Yi might have undergone some genetic optimization over generations—enabling them to destroy a person using only words and letters instead of swords and bows.
"I have so very many things I wish to ask you."
Yet, despite the terror, the corners of my mouth threaten to twitch upward. I feel a rush of excitement. A shiver travels up my spine. It's the kind of thrill you feel right before bungee jumping. Have I gone mad from sheer terror? Perhaps. But that isn't all.
"The previous questions were merely the playthings of those who indulge in idle academic debates. However, the true purpose of a scholar's learning lies in cultivating oneself and governing the realm."
Right now, I see an opportunity I absolutely cannot afford to miss. I can tell just by looking into the King's eyes. Those two eyes are practically burning with a desperate desire to have me.
"And as it happens, have you not made a name for yourself as a filial son?"
The greatest monarch in Joseon's history, a god-like figure revered as a living sage, is enthralled by me. He is itching to seize me and keep me by his side this very instant. It is painfully obvious that he wants to keep a seven-year-old like me in Hanseong, force me to take the Mungwa exam, and put me to work. The only reason he doesn't is because he wants too many things. He knows that by leaving me on the northern frontier, he can gain far more.
I agree with that logic. For now, I must remain in Hamgil Province. That is my foundation. My patron, Kim Jong-seo, is also the Army Commander of Hamgil Province. I cannot abandon that place. I will return to the capital to take the Mungwa exam someday, but not yet.
"Therefore, I believe this is the proper question for you."
But until then, I will make sure the Great King is as anxious as possible to have me. I will make sure he can never forget the 'Seven-Year-Old Sage,' An Heon.
"Will you answer?"
"It is only an honor that Your Majesty deigns to ask me," I reply.
The King smiles at my words and speaks.
"To encourage filial piety and rectify the customs of the realm... what measures would you propose?"
Yi Do was delighted. He could not remember the last time he had felt this amused. It was rare for him to find his emotions so difficult to control. An uncontrolled impulse was a weakness, yet how could a mere seven-year-old boy stimulate him to such a degree? Ah, it was a bone-deep pity that the Crown Prince was not present. Yi Hyang, too, had desperately wished to meet this prodigy.
Yet, Yi Do did not jump to conclusions. What he had said earlier was half-earnest. Anyone with a bit of talent could spin an amusing, abstract theory. However, governing the realm was a different matter entirely. Would a logic constructed purely of words in one's head remain standing once it was anchored in the mortal world? In human affairs, there are a thousand questions and ten thousand answers. Half of those questions should never even be asked, and a fraction of those answers should never even be contemplated. It is not uncommon for a single problem to yield a hundred answers, or for a hundred problems to have only one answer. A brilliant scholar does not always make a brilliant statesman. Just as Zhao Kuo of the State of Zhao, despite his mastery of military texts, led four hundred thousand soldiers to their slaughter on the battlefield.
Yi Do relaxed his posture. With a composed expression, he awaited the boy's response. Even if the answer turned out to be a mess, it would be fine. An Heon had already proven his worth. To have mastered the Four Books at the age of six meant his intellect alone was a rare treasure. His courage to speak without hesitation before his sovereign and his quick wit were equally precious. If a mediocre answer came out... it would be a shame, but acceptable. He would simply mold and guide the boy himself. As Yi Do looked down into the boy's eyes, the child spoke.
"I humbly submit that the people must be able to read books widely."
...Hmm.
"If we widely distribute texts such as the Classic of Filial Piety and the Records of Filial Conduct for the common people to read, will it not serve as the foundation for countless filial sons and daughters to emerge?"
"..."
Indeed. Frankly, it was disappointing. It was an answer anyone could give, and thus, one that everyone had already given. In fact, it was a policy already in effect. Both the Classic of Filial Piety and the Records of Filial Conduct were being widely published. It had already been five years since the Samgang Haengsil-do was newly promulgated. And what were the fruits of those efforts? Even by generous standards, they could hardly be called successful.
Yi Do swallowed a bitter taste and nodded, offering nothing more than a polite, benevolent smile. In truth, it was a rather absurd sight—asking a mere child for his opinion on major state affairs just because he had mastered the classics, and actually expecting a profound discourse from him. Well, no matter. He had been thoroughly entertained until now. The fact that An Heon was a talent to be groomed for great things remained unchanged. Though, perhaps the rumors of a 'Seven-Year-Old Sage' were slightly exaggerated. Just as the King was about to dismiss An Heon, the boy spoke again.
"Of course, that alone will not suffice."
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"..."
"..."
Instantly, the atmosphere in the hall shifted. Yi Do glanced subtly at the ministers around him. Heo Jo was no longer staring at him with indignation. Instead, he was staring at An Heon with eyes wide with shock. Why? Because, as mentioned, what An Heon had proposed was what everyone always said. And because, as mentioned, it was a policy the state was already actively pursuing. Yet, this young child had just declared that the grand consensus of scholars and the state's policies "will not suffice."
Once again, the King's interest flared. A point in his favor. Even if whatever followed was utterly preposterous, that sheer audacity alone earned An Heon a passing grade.
"First, we must revitalize papermaking and typecasting."
And the words that followed made the corners of Yi Do's mouth twitch once more.
"How intriguing."
His eyes curved into crescents. Another point. It wasn't because he expected a seven-year-old from a remote mountain village to possess some miraculous method for producing paper and movable type. What could a child possibly know?
"Many scholars often lose sight of the beginning while staring only at the end, yet An Heon alone remembers the starting point. This child is better than a hundred scholars."
Still, the approach was remarkably sound. To encourage reading, book publishing must first flourish. For publishing to flourish, paper and movable type must naturally be abundant. Had the boy merely discussed the principles of moral cultivation, Yi Do would have dismissed him as nothing more than a 'child who memorizes classics well.' But he had not. That was why he earned another point.
"Then how do you propose to revitalize papermaking and typecasting?"
"Even without being ordered, the people engage in farming and sericulture because that is where their food and clothing come from," the boy argued, his words flowing like water the moment the question was posed. "If making paper and carving type can provide them with a livelihood, why would the people not do so of their own accord?"
"Hmm."
"And is this true only for papermaking and typecasting?"
For a moment, a hush fell over the court.
"Even if the people wish to perform funeral rites for their deceased parents, they cannot fulfill the proper etiquette if they cannot obtain a coffin, incense, or ritual vessels."
The words carried weight. They were the words of one who had personally conducted funeral rites in a remote northeastern village.
"Those who craft coffins, dry incense wood, and carve ritual vessels must be able to earn a living through their trade. Only then will those who follow the family rites and fulfill their duties to their parents naturally multiply throughout the land."
The King nodded. This was enough. He was thoroughly satisfied. It was time to bring this to a close. Having derived such pleasure from summoning this young child, it was time for the monarch to bestow a gift. Just as he was about to raise his hand to call for a court lady, the King froze. An Heon's lips moved once more.
I could stop here. Even if I end it now, the Great King won't forget me. But I won't stop. Simply not forgetting me isn't enough. I will make sure I am the only thing on his mind. And so, I speak.
"However, simply planting a seed does not guarantee it will sprout fully."
"...What do you mean by that?"
"Even if coffins, incense, and ritual vessels are abundant, they are useless if the one performing the rites does not know the proper etiquette. Ignorance and illiteracy make it so."
Unconsciously, the King clenched his hands resting on his knees. He felt something.
"The same is true for books. Without a teacher to guide them, how can the common people read on their own?"
The boy seemed to be preparing to deliver a crucial blow.
"Before I was taken under my mentor's wing, I was self-taught, so I know their struggles all too well."
"Struggles, you say?"
"Yes. Learning the sounds and meanings of characters entirely on one's own was both painful and incredibly difficult."
"Do you mean to say we must station a teacher in every village?"
"While that would certainly be the ideal path, my short and narrow sight has failed to find a way to achieve it."
"Then what is it you wish to say?"
The King stared at the smiling boy before him. Yi Do completely rewrote his assessment of the child. Until a moment ago, he had thought of the boy as a promising sprout. But he was wrong. This was no mere sprout. He had already bloomed. The corners of Yi Do's mouth twitched upward. The hairs on his arms stood on end, and a jolt of electricity seemed to course through his body.
"Should we not create books in such a way that the readers can comprehend them on their own? Otherwise, even the previous measures will bear no fruit."
"That defies reason. Books are, by definition, made of characters."
Surely not.
"Where in the world is there a book that can be understood by commoners who do not know characters?"
Could it be? Could it actually be?
The King recalled. He recalled the countless rhyme dictionaries that lay open even now on the desk in his bedchamber. He recalled the knowledge of the four tones and seven sounds—the system of classifying speech sounds in traditional Chinese phonology—that he had compiled over the years. He recalled the sounds of various nations, the scripts of various lands, and the principles of how the human throat opens and closes, and how the tongue moves. It was something he had been deeply investigating for years. He also recalled the writings the boy had reportedly penned to clarify the sounds and meanings of ancient Chinese. And now, that very boy spoke.
"A book centered around illustrations might be of some help. If it consists of simple, clear drawings, how could the common people fail to understand?"
"Would that suffice?"
"I do not believe so," the boy replied, as if it were of no consequence.
"However, perhaps..."
"..."
"...I have occasionally pondered whether there might be something better than Idu or Hyangchal."
He tossed the words out casually, as if in passing.
"..."
"..."
"..."
And at those passing words, a smile cracked across the King's face. It was pure ecstasy. Yes.
"In your words... lies a wisdom that cannot be found among vulgar scholars."
Yes. I was not the only one who thought of this.
A look of unprecedented joy washed over the King's face. With it, a strange vitality swept through the court. The very air changed. The ministers tilted their heads in confusion, unable to comprehend the shift. Had something important just been said? It didn't seem like it. They could not understand. In this hall... only Yi Do's eyes burned with a blazing fire.